


Criminal Fashion

by iwish



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Other, Snarky Courf, Snarky Enj, Snarky Montparnasse, all the snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwish/pseuds/iwish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Montparnasse is close to clawing his eyes out in a prison cell when a certain someone shows up to bail out their friends</p>
            </blockquote>





	Criminal Fashion

“Can you believe they call us criminals when he’s assaulting us with that haircut?”

From a cell nearby, there were multiple groans.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but please shut up.” That was the curly haired one, Montparnasse thought, trying to get a better look. 

Four young men had been paraded into the police station, right before Montparnasse’s eyes as he hastily stashed his lock picks back into his socks. Their outfits ranged from bearable to outright visual pollution.

One of them was clearly an artist wearing scruffy overalls, which wasn’t too bad, he had to admit. It was his friend with the bright red jacket that was hurting his eyes.

“Rude.” Was all Montparnasse had gotten in response when he tried to bring it up, and that wasn’t even from the offender. The curly haired one with the obnoxiously patterned bow ties (yes, plural) had gotten in before the blonde could give what was probably going to be a lecture.

He huffed and turned away from the bars, trying to catch sight of his reflection in the window of the door to check his hair. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his top hat. Shame, that was his favourite one.

“Did everyone else get away?” 

Montparnasse looked around as the artist finally spoke up. His friends shrugged and started throwing names around in low voices.

“Bahorel?”

“Yep, he ran like hell and took Fee with him.”

“Joly?”

“He’s at work.”

“Bousset?”

“Probably with Joly, he managed to break his foot before anything kicked off.”

“How?” The tone in which the blonde spoke indicated that this wasn't a rare occurrence.

“I think he dropped his placard on it, but I could be wrong.”

There were a couple of muffled snorts.

“ ‘Ponine and Gavroche?”

“Both fine, Cosette took them to the bakery.”

“Is that everyone?” Asked the tallest one, pushing his glasses up. The others lapsed into thought for a few seconds. “No, wait - what about Jehan?”

There was a silence.

“I didn’t see them.” Blondie said uncomfortably. “But they aren’t here, are they?”

“They could be in the hospital for all we know and…”

A shadow outside the door caught Montparnasse’s eye. Someone was talking to the guy on the desk by the looks of things, gesturing expressively with their hands. 

Eventually desk guy got up and his shadow approached the door. Montparnasse sat quickly and tried to look disinterested, only peering through his lashes. The door swung open and the officer stalked in with a scowl, rattling his keys.

“You lot have a good friend. You’re out on bail.”

Through the open door, a figure was standing, fiddling with their plait. They saw Montparnasse looking, though he swore he’d been discreet, and smiled back.

_Fuck_

That was just fabulous. His prison-acquaintances’ saviour was cute. Even wearing…whatever it was that they were wearing. Jangling keys brought him back to the present and he opened his mouth to ask the officer if he had considered getting a decent haircut when the door to his cell swung open.

It was hard to tell who was more shocked, Montparnasse or the four guys leaving. Ties-plural cleared his throat.

“Um, officer, he’s not with us.” 

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.”

The red-head outside gave him a deliberate wink and Parnasse was up in an instant. “Of course.”

——————

Outside, after the shuffle of paperwork that seemed to take forever, everyone turned to Jehan to address the minor problem they had caused.

“Why did you bail _him_ out?” Courf moaned. “All he does is insult people’s fashion sense.”

“All you do is insult people’s eyes.” Shot back the guy in question.

_“Why?”_

Jehan shrugged serenely “Was anyone about to show up and do it for me?”

The guy had the grace to look abashed. “No.”

Smiling, Jehan took the guy by the arm and began to tow him down the street. Behind them, their friends started a whispered debate about Jehan’s mental state. They ignored it.

Mystery Guy walked in silence for a few minutes beside them. Jehan had the chance to take in his now messy hair and tailored clothes that must have cost a fortune.

_Or_ , they thought with an inward smile, _they’re a very good thief._

By this time, Mystery Guy seemed to have collected his thoughts.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, because I really do, but there’s got to be more to it than that.”

“Why should there be?”

Mystery Guy turned and eyed Jehan thoughtfully. “Why indeed.”

Quite suddenly he caught hold of their hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a fleeting kiss to it. Then he turned and darted into a nearby alley, swallowed up by darkness in seconds.

Jehan stood dumbstruck for a couple of seconds, their hand still hanging in the air, before letting it drop. A smile tugged at their lips.

“Where did he go?” Grantaire caught up, unaware of all that had transpired. 

“No idea.”

“Ungrateful sod.”

“Hmm.”

——————————

When they had left their friends at the Musain, Jehan snuck outside to open the piece of paper that had been hastily slipped into their hand.

_Thank you for everything,_

_Montparnasse_

_P.s. Please burn your friend’s multiple hideous ties_


End file.
